


Butter Crush, Sugar Love

by ZodiacRiver



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZodiacRiver/pseuds/ZodiacRiver
Summary: Phichit’s expectations didn’t miss. His smile was sweet, clean-cut, containing a dangerous, bewitching spell. It was lovely.“Fine, then. Take me grocery shopping, pretty boy.”





	Butter Crush, Sugar Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mindifimoveincloser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindifimoveincloser/gifts).



> Wow Zodie back at it again with the seungchuchu fic

To the eyes of someone who viewed him from the back, he was pretty much a dime a dozen. He wasn’t eccentric—far from idiosyncratic, in fact—at least not enough for him to earn a second look. The color of his hair depended on the point of view from which you are looking at him, but if you are eye level to his back, it would look ordinarily jet black. The way he sauntered was relaxed and normal, not at all that funny or strange to be laughed at in the dinner table.

Seeing from one side, he was forgettable. Though, seen from the front, the story was different.

A stranger that haunted dreams, people would say. A handsome city boy. He could easily make it to hopelessly romantic poems. His eyes were slightly, just slightly chatoyant, and dark, deep, begging for discovery and effectively pulling in every attention it managed to catch. The curves of his lips wrote heroic history; the redness of them lit up towns and—

“Phichit!” hearing his name being called, Phichit looked up to see Yuuri, with a concerned face and a hand on his shoulder, which had stopped shaking him. “I’m heading back home now, okay? Don’t daydream too much.”

“Daydreams and night-sighs. I’m far too lost in the territory of love. It’s almost impossible for me not to think of him, when the shop is this empty and idyllic,” Phichit answered, in a mawkish and obviously faked dreamy tone.

“For a literature student, you are implementing your studies too well in real life,” Yuuri chuckled. “Well, good luck with your shift. Don’t forget to lock the door when you’re done.”

Phichit waved him good-bye. The door closed with a tiny ring of the chime, leaving him alone sitting on a stool behind the cashier, shivering slightly at the autumnal wind that blew inside when the door was momentarily opened. Phichit leaned back and sighed. The shop was, indeed, empty and idyllic.

Yuuri had a family-owned bakery, and Phichit helped him out by taking the evening shift, right after he was back from university. It wasn’t so much of a popular bakery; it didn’t sell twice a dozen of everything and the interior was simple, probably the only things eye-catching were the hanging pots of synthetic flowers and checkered floor. Nevertheless, they sold good bread and cakes, even if Phichit had only brought white bread home. He wasn’t the greatest fan of pastries.

But that man was. At least that was what Phichit observed, even if it was obvious already. Every time after dusk, he would enter the store with a tired look in his face, then shoved the same five kinds into the basket, before paying without a single word aside from a taciturn ‘thank you’. According to Yuuri, he wasn’t a new customer. He’d been doing the same exact routine even before Phichit worked there. It was almost like a ritual.

Phichit took a liking in him. He was attractive, mysterious, and despite a diet consisting of sweets, he was well-built. There were thin dark lines under his eyes, which, to Phichit’s deduction, showed terrible sleeping schedule—as terrible as his meals.

Right, so today would be the day. Phichit should make the first move, otherwise the tale of romance would stay still, and Phichit wasn’t looking forward to that.

By then, the sun had already disappeared from the horizon. As per usual, the bakery didn’t garner a lot of customers, aside from hungry college students and often times security guards and office staff. Phichit hummed as he tried to relieve boredom by reading a novel he had borrowed from the library. It was sort of a Lovecraftian horror, touched with a few Kafkaesque aspects; not really his favorite, but acceptable enough as a distraction.

The chime rang. He put his book down immediately, marking it with a dog-ear (he probably shouldn’t do that, because it wasn’t his own book) and welcomed his customer. To his disappointment, it wasn’t the one he had been waiting for. It was only a middle-aged woman, and she bought a single strawberry roll.

The first time Phichit saw that man was a few months ago. He was still a relatively new employee, but was immediately good at his job, thanks to his cheerful and sociable personality. Everyone always returned his smile—except for him. It made Phichit curious—how would he look like smiling? Laughing, even? It must be really sweet…considering he was already this charming with a stoic face.

Phichit could remember by heart what he, by no fail, bought from the bakery. A slice of apple pie, fairy cookies, peanut butter buns, blueberry tart and chocolate croissant—basically all the ‘unhealthy’ kinds. He completely ignored their gluten-free and less-sugar pastry sections.

Speaking of the Devil, Phichit was deep in the undercurrents of his thoughts when the person in mind came into the scene.

This time, he was wearing a handsome leather jacket, unbuttoned from top to bottom, revealing a plain white shirt underneath. He had a huge backpack slung on one shoulder. He looked exhausted as usual and wasted no time in grabbing the basket, before filling it with a slice of apple pie, fairy cookies, peanut butter buns, blueberry tart and chocolate croissant.

Phichit smiled. It was an adorable trait.

The man walked to the cashier and put down the basket on the counter wordlessly.

“Is this all, Sir?” Phichit asked. He nodded.

After he had done putting in his purchases in a paper bag, he asked, “and your name, Sir?”

“What?”

“Your name, Sir. I need to write it down on the…,” he stuttered a little, thinking hard of what to say next. He should’ve rehearsed it, but alas, it was an unplanned confession. “Paper bag. I need it on the paper bag.”

“Wait, hold on,” he sighed, glaring at Phichit curiously. “This is new. I don’t need it. This isn’t a coffee shop, is it?”

“Oh, no, it’s just for formality.”

“Then, if you insist,” he said. “Give me the marker.”

“Marker?”

“Yes, the one you use for writing names.”

Hesitantly, Phichit gave him the marker, along with the bag. Much to his surprise, the man pulled him by the hand. By instinct, Phichit tried to flinch away, but he was already scribbling on his arm.

Ink bled into his skin, the sensation ticklish and cold. Phichit shuddered. Someone should be at this certain extent of aggression to be as bold as writing on your cashier’s hand with a permanent marker. He wrote deliberately slow, pressing the tip quite hard enough to inflict uncomfortable pressure.

When he was done, he gently put down money on the counter. He said, “Keep the change.”

Phichit was too occupied to take some change, anyway. He didn’t even have time to bid good-bye or announce his usual jolly ‘thank you for your patronage’. He was busy looking down at his arm. Written there: _Seung Gil Lee_. And under it was: _Starbucks, 8PM_ tomorrow.

…

Phichit arrived at the promised place by eight sharp. It was deserted—only three people were there, all of them on their laptops and two of them with finished drinks, sat far away from each other. He ordered hot Earl Grey, and sat on the seat nearest to the door.

There wasn’t a sound, except for the buzzing crowd outside. The noise was almost cacophonous, but the eerie silence of the shop covered it all. The place was well-lit, but it didn’t pay for the lonely atmosphere that it gave.

Phichit stretched himself, spilling a few drops of his tea in the process. The rivulets sipped into the fabric of his pants, and it was boiling, so he gasped and scrambled the table for tissue—although his effort was in vain.

That was, until a hand showed up in front of him, like a savior, providing him a few sheets of tissue. He didn’t bother to look up to see who it was. He just mentioned his gratitude and wiped where it was wet.

“You’re so klutzy,” the voice was familiar. The person sat across him, eyeing him carefully. It was Seung Gil.

“Oh, hi,” Phichit spoke, blushing a bit. “Good to see you again.”

“I see your arm is still stained.”

“I tried to clean it off with soap, but it just doesn’t work,” he shrugged, chuckling. “What’s the deal with it, by the way? Why here, and what for?”

“It’s not normal for someone to ask my name so suddenly, unless they’re interested,” Seung Gil said. “Say, what is it in me that you find so alluring?”

“Hey, now, I haven’t even told you my name!” Phichit pointed out.

“Ah. Right. What’s your name?”

“Phichit.”

“Mm. So, Phichit, was it really important for you to know me?”

Phichit looked away. What to say? What to do? Seung Gil was leaning towards him, legs spread apart to give space for him to dangle his hands down. All the time, he didn’t leave his eyes off Phichit. He was so terribly intimidating that it somehow terrified Phichit.

“I wanted to get to know you,” Phichit began. “Because you seem fun. My bakery seems to be lit in fairy lights every time you step in and buy apple pie, cookies, buns, and—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I like to buy,” he interrupted. “Why would you want to be my friend, though? Do I not look…unfriendly? Scary?”

“Yes, buddy, you do. Once I’m in this situation, yes, you are very much so,” Phichit tainted his words with a joking tone, but Seung Gil’s face showed that he had taken offense. “But! I still want to be your friend. So, friends?”

“Wait up, wait up!” Seung Gil said in frustration. “This is all weird. Are you sure you aren’t a spy or something? Were you hired to assassinate me?”

“What? No!” Phichit laughed. “You are a university student, aren’t you? What are you majoring in? Criminal studies?”

“Astrophysics. You? Wait—that doesn’t matter. Answer my previous question.”

“Literature,” Phichit answered, purposely ignoring Seung Gil’s first question.

“What’s the worst a literature student can do to me?”

“Kill you, but with words.”

“Don’t feel like it right now.”

Phichit tilted his head to get a better look of Seung Gil. He was indeed comely, but there was no time to be admiring him.

“Actually, of course there was a reason.”

“And that is?”

“You eat so unhealthily,” Phichit replied. “I dread seeing you being reduced into a sickly adult.”

“I’ve been living this lifestyle for years, and I’m still alive and well.”

“Oh, that’s not my point. I think you need to live that ‘alive and well’ life a bit healthier, you know? Greener.”

“Hell, no. I’m not eating vegetables, I don’t care what a stranger like you would think or say.”

“Stranger? Buddy, I’m your friend now,” he grinned. Seung Gil’s eyebrows were furrowed. He seemed to still be processing how this all went in the first place. Well, after all, it was Seung Gil’s own fault. He had dragged himself into this…small chaos. Phichit was happy to be involved, but Seung Gil was less than that.

“Friends, huh, that doesn’t sound so logical to me. We just met.”

“I suppose you’ve pledged friendship to me ever since you wrote your name on my arm. Or was that only to assert dominance? Gosh, I feel like I’m in a soulmates alternate universe right now.”

Seung Gil was perplexed. Phichit had successfully disarmed him. He was right. The worst a literature student could do was to kill with words. From his body language, Phichit saw that Seung Gil was trying to calculate an answer, or maybe cooking up a plan to run away and never see him ever again.

“I don’t mind being friends,” Seung Gil finally said. “I guess. But what are we going to do now? Sleepovers?”

“Well…let’s not go that far yet. Are holding hands all right?”

“Phichit!”

“I’m just kidding!” his laugh resonated in the otherwise quiet room. “I’m taking you on a grocery shopping. We’ll buy what’s best for you—and a lot of veggies, of course, then I’ll be the honorable cook.”

Seung Gil smiled. Phichit’s expectations didn’t miss. His smile was sweet, clean-cut, containing a dangerous, bewitching spell. It was lovely.

“Fine, then. Take me grocery shopping, pretty boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> pls tell me what u think!!!


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